Renegade Wizards by Lucien Soulban

upset the horses. Tythonnia struggled to control her Dairly, and Par-Salian flipped over backward as his Qwermish reared up on its hind legs. The only one in a position to fight was Ladonna.
    “Sihir anak!”
she shouted, and four darts of light flew out in different directions from her finger. Each found its target with unerring accuracy, and blasted four dolls backward. Without pause, however, the slightly blackened and damaged dolls were back on their feet, racing to overtake the three wizards.
    Par-Salian cried out, and Tythonnia regained controlof her mare in time to see one doll on his back, biting his shoulder. There was no blood to be seen, but Par-Salian was in agony. He tore at the doll, but it would not let go, and more were advancing on him.
    Tythonnia kicked her horse into motion and bore down on Par-Salian. He’d just managed to pull the doll from his back and throw it to the ground, but five others were mere feet away. With the reins quickly looped around her wrists, her fingers danced together as Tythonnia called,
“Khalayan perubahan!”
    As with all illusion spells, Tythonnia concentrated on the glamour and its intention, on the effect that would unfold. The magic found its mouth through her fingertips, and her eyes felt hot as it surged through and out of her. Arcane threads briefly manifested in the air and shot into Par-Salian. He vanished and instantly reappeared two feet away.
    He appeared startled, as did the dolls. They hesitated a moment before shifting direction and charging toward Par-Salian. The dolls leaped at him and passed right through him. Tythonnia was grateful that the illusion worked, but it was a brief reprieve at best. The dolls were already looking around, trying to find the wizard.
    Par-Salian, however, was ready for them. Because it was her spell Tythonnia could see him clearly. He hadn’t budged; her magic had merely displaced his image. Par-Salian’s fingers and mouth were already moving, ambient flickers of magic coruscating around his body. Palms directed downward, he whispered and the air hissed as a sphere of flame unfurled beneath his hands. The ball of fire crackled and steamed with the downpour, but it was not quenched. Par-Salian pointed at the dolls and the ball rolled through the air toward them. It caught one doll then another. It danced and burned at the behest of Par-Salian’s outstretched hand, tumbling this way and that, sweeping through the dolls, dousing them in fire.
    Tythonnia pulled on the reins and forced her mare totrample the dolls coming toward her, but they were quick underfoot and dodged the mad, panicked dance of hooves.
    Ladonna lost none of her grace. She stood her ground as a half dozen dolls scrambled to overtake her. Suddenly, one of the gaudy ring stones on her finger flickered, and as her arms swept the ground around her, a curtain of fire erupted from the earth. The wall steamed under the rain and caught a handful of dolls in its heat. The others turned and scampered back into the buildings’ dark ruins.
    Tythonnia’s horse bucked and she cursed herself for getting so distracted. Several dolls were already at its hooves, trying to leap onto its legs. One managed to clamp on and bite, and again, its soft mouth seemed to draw no blood. But the Dairly whinnied in pain and reared back. Tythonnia lost her balance and fell into the mud.
    The fall drove the wind from her lungs and knocked her senseless. Something in her mind screamed at her to get up and fight, but her thoughts were muddled. Dancing dangerously close to her, the horse bucked and kicked, trying to knock the dolls loose. Only a couple attacked the horse, however. Four, or perhaps more, had turned on Tythonnia. She screamed in pain as the first doll bit into her calf.
    The bite itself wasn’t very deep, but the doll’s mouth seemed laced with something that burned her skin with an unholy pain, a lancing agony that impaled her leg and sucked her strength through the wound. She felt